The Sweetness of Poison

Why the corrupt heart delights in suspicion and recruits others into its darkness

“He who maligns his neighbor is like the serpent; along with his own soul, he also destroys the soul of anyone who listens to him.”

— Evergetinos

There are men who do not fall into slander by accident.

They cultivate it.

They watch.

They listen.

They interpret shadows as truth.

And when nothing is found, they invent what their own heart already contains.

The fathers say that a pure heart sees God everywhere.

But a darkened heart sees only itself.

Suspicion is not discernment.

It is a confession.

A man reveals what he is by what he is ready to believe about another.

If he is chaste, he does not quickly suspect impurity.

If he is merciful, he does not quickly condemn.

But if his own soul is full of hidden rot, then every whisper becomes evidence, every silence becomes guilt, every brother becomes an accomplice in his inner world.

And he delights in it.

This is the terror.

He delights in it.

The ancient elders trembled at a single judgmental thought.

They wept over a word spoken lightly against a brother.

Abba Poemen said that to cover the sin of another is to become like God.

But now men uncover eagerly.

They search out faults like treasure.

They speak as though exposing others were a form of righteousness.

It is not righteousness.

It is hunger.

A hunger to escape oneself.

For the conscience does not remain silent.

It reproaches.

It wounds.

It calls a man back into truth.

And rather than bow before that voice, a man turns outward.

He gathers suspicions.

He speaks them aloud.

And then he seeks others who will nod in agreement.

“Do you see it too?”

“Is it not obvious?”

“Surely he is like this…”

This is how darkness becomes communal.

One man alone might still hear his conscience.

But two or three gathered in suspicion create a false peace.

They confirm one another.

They justify one another.

They bury the voice of God beneath a chorus of agreement.

Thus the sin doubles.

Not only is the brother judged, but the heart is sealed.

Saint Isaac says that the man who has tasted grace cannot bear to see the faults of another.

He is pierced by his own sins.

He sees himself as worse than all.

But the one who has not wept for himself becomes a judge of the world.

He becomes, as the Evergetinos says, eager to find accomplices in evil.

This is why suspicion is so dangerous.

It is not merely a thought.

It is a movement of the soul away from repentance.

It is easier to believe evil of another than to face the truth about oneself.

Easier to speak than to be silent.

Easier to accuse than to weep.

And so men choose the easier path.

They drink poison and call it clarity.

They wound others and call it discernment.

They gather together and call it truth.

But the desert fathers would say this:

If you see your brother sin, cover him.

If you hear a rumor, bury it.

If a thought arises, condemn yourself first.

For the one who guards his heart will see light.

But the one who feeds on suspicion will become what he consumes.

A serpent among brethren.

A destroyer of souls.

And worst of all,

a man who no longer hears the reproach of his own conscience.